


This Fleeting Moment (how to move on)

by Ficlet-Machine (Wordsmith)



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Ficlet, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Post-Season/Series 07 Finale, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsmith/pseuds/Ficlet-Machine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chibs is struggling to overcome his grief and wonders if he will ever recover and move on. Happy shows him a way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Fleeting Moment (how to move on)

…And suddenly everything was just said and done. The Teller-Morrow family's Shakespearian rule of terror was over. Done. No more. John Teller, generally agreed to be the single sane person in that bag of cats called a family, got hit by a truck; Clay - that megalomaniac asshole - got lost in his own schemes and ended up shot at point blank range; Tara was dead because of Old Lady-paranoia; Gemma finally bit the dust after taking her power play too far; and now Jax, the - in hindsight - royally fucked up lad, had ended up pulling an intentional John Teller, and now…

What now? 

It was quite possible Charming would never be the same - Samcro sure as hell wouldn't. How do a club even begin to recover after a mess like this? How would they ever even begin to wrap their heads around how thoroughly they had been used as puppets in a ridiculous power struggle between Mr Barking Mad Sr and his stepson Mr Barking Mad Jr? How would they justify their own actions to new members? How would they ever rebuild their rep with the other charters? 

Chibs didn't know, and it haunted him. Sitting at the gavel, he ached inside at the sight of all the empty chairs around the table - the President-patch burned through the leather of his cut. He missed them. He missed Bobby's stability and advice, he missed Opie and Piney and their constant bitching, he missed Juice so much it physically hurt. None of them deserved to die due to something as ugly as this.  
He kept turning around and expecting to see them, kept thinking of things he wanted to tell them and then being hit in the face with all the hurt when he remembered they'd never come back. Ever.  
He wondered if _he_ would ever recover from this.

The smell of food and light clinking noises of tableware brought him out of his gloomy thought pattern, and he realized he must have been sitting in the exact same position for some time; his cigar had turned itself to ashes in his hand, and his legs were killing him. Whatever food that was, it smelled divine, and his stomach reminded him that it had been neglected lately. Looking up, he was more than a little surprised to find Happy there, preparing a plate each - a concentrated frown on his face as he made sure none of the gravy spilled as he was pouring it. The containers weren't from a restaurant, and Chibs realized from the look of them that this was a home cooked meal.  
Happy put a plate in front of him and handed him a knife and fork, then sat down in his own chair and popped open a bottle of Coke. Glancing over at Chibs, he said:

"Stop thinking. Eat."

Not one to turn down a decent meal, Chibs dug in, and for a moment thought he too had died and gone to heaven. They ate in silence, and for once he didn't feel awkward or anxious about it. Happy's presence had a calming effect, and the fact that his Sergeant wasn't trying to lighten the mood or throw a pity party made him enormously grateful. Not that he really expected Happy to do either of those things, but people had the strangest reactions to traumatic events, so you never knew. As he finally pushed the empty plate away, he gave a little smile.

"Best damn food I've 'ad in years. Thanks, Hap."

Happy grunted.

"I don't like cooking for just one," he said and emptied his soda.

"Ye cooked this?"

"You always forget to eat, Pres. Might as well cook for you too. Keep you on your feet. Don't need more bodies droppin' here."

"That might be the most comfortin' thing anyone's said t' me in weeks."  
Happy didn't comment, and instead started to put the stuff away. Chibs took the opportunity to stretch his legs a bit, and went over to the window to look out. The sun had apparently set long hours ago. Jeez, how long had he been sitting here? Happy joined him by the window, and the silence stretched on for a while, until Chibs sighed and looked at the other man.

"How do ye move on, Hap? How in the Hell am I to get over all o' this an' get the Sons back on their feet when I can't seem to get me own head out of the mud? How do you do it?"

Happy looked him in the eyes for a long time, and Chibs almost wanted to shrink away from the force in that piercing stare. Happy always looked like he saw right through you, and now Chibs felt as see-through as a clean window. Then suddenly he was wrapped in a pair of sinewy and heavily tattooed arms, and his head was held securely against a hard chest. Happy's pulse was strong and even, and it was remarkably calming.

"You aint alone, Pres," Happy said quietly. "I aint gonna let you go down that road, 'k? Imma keep your head straight. Time moves on, and so do we." 

"Aye," Chibs sighed. He was enjoying this hug more than he ever thought he would. "But how?"

Happy brought their faces close, pinning Chibs down with that stare again, and simply said:

"Together."

Then, he closed the space completely - their lips meeting in a shy, chaste kiss. It was sudden; the moment was over as quickly as it started - but something changed inside Chibs in that very moment. Something warm spread in his chest, and for the first time in years, he felt a hint of something that might be hope. Happy let go of him, and in his usual deadpan voice said:

"I brought desert, too. Come on, or it's gonna melt."

Happy might not be the best at comforting - but somehow he still always knew what to do. And if he wanted to elaborate on that kissing thing, well, then Chibs decided he wouldn't mind at all. Maybe that would be exactly what they needed: to heal together.

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I thought about. Chibs/Happy, Chibs/Juice, and Happy/Juice are my OTP's, and I realized I had never written anything about Chibs/Happy before. This is a complete scandal, and, obviously, something I needed to ames right away.  
> Originally posted on my tumblr: tumblr.com/ficlet-machine
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
